


i just can't handle it

by goodbye_yellowbrickroad



Series: good old-fashioned lover boys [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1974, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_yellowbrickroad/pseuds/goodbye_yellowbrickroad
Summary: Eventually he got bored of sitting on the sofa, so he got up, got another drink, started wandering around the house (seriously, who did this house belong to?). He thought he might find Freddie and have a chat with him, but when he stumbled upon his friend it was only to find that he was on the back patio with his tongue in Mary’s mouth. He figured he could go and bother Brian, but Roger found him in the kitchen chatting up some girl and the last time Roger had prevented Brian getting laid without a good reason, Brian had rewarded Roger with the silent treatment for nearly three days.And then there was John. Dear, sweet, darling Deaky who Roger was pretty sure he was falling —Roger shook himself quickly before that thought could go any further.





	i just can't handle it

**Author's Note:**

> wishing a very happy 68th birthday to john richard deacon :)

“Yes  — yes — yes —  _ yes! _ ” John gasped for air, thought that maybe it would be easier to breathe if he stopped talking so bloody much but that couldn’t very well be helped. “R-Roge!”

“John,” Roger said breathlessly, kissing his collarbone gently while he screwed him with vigor. “ _ Deaky,  _ you’re so —”

“ _ Roger! _ ” John said his name again, with more force behind it this time. 

“Yeah?”

“Hold my hand.”

Roger stilled and looked down at John, confused. He couldn’t seem to comprehend what it was that John was asking him for so he stilled his movements, opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but found himself frozen and unable to form words because John — oh,  _ fuck,  _ John — had his head upon Roger’s pillow, his hair splayed out around him like a halo. Roger was damn sure that he was sweating, but John was  _ glowing.  _

“Roger, c’mon,” John huffed out. He grabbed Roger’s hand, laced their fingers together. He propped himself up on the other elbow so that his nose was right up against Roger’s. “Okay?”

Roger glanced down at the pillow where there hands were laid down, together, fingers woven together. If ever asked about it Roger would deny it, but John squeezed his hand and Roger gasped and came on the spot. He rode out the high of the orgasm with his face tucked into John’s neck, shaking and moaning all the way through it. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” John moaned, eyes falling shut.

“ _ John, _ ” Roger sighed happily as he pulled out of him. 

John hummed. He reached out for Roger, got a hold of him, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Gonna finish you off,” Roger spoke against John’s lips before snaking his way down John’s body, letting his fingers slip loose from John’s fingers, kissing every patch of skin he could get his mouth on. When Roger’s mouth was hovering above John’s groin, he looked up at his friend. “How’re you doing, Deaky?” 

John’s eyes were hooded and his face was red. He had his mouth hanging open, and he quirked his lips into a grin. “Well, get on with it, then,” he said a little breathlessly. 

Roger smiled and swallowed John’s cock whole, dragging a sharp moan from his lips, then pulling off of him. He stroked him with his hand, much too slowly for John’s liking. Fast enough to keep him hot and ready to blow, but not enough to actually get him anywhere. 

“ _ Roger, _ ” John groaned.

“Yes?” Roger said innocently.

John reached down and tugged hard on Roger’s hair, sending a pretty clear message that he wanted to Roger to hurry the fuck up, but Roger shook himself from John’s grasp. “Roge, c’mon,” John huffed. “What’s the big idea?”

Roger stopped stroking John altogether, earning himself an annoyed whine, and he circled his thumb around and around the head. “You look fuckin’ hot when you’re on the verge,” he explained casually —  _ far  _ too casually, as if her were explaing why he preferred cake over pie. “So I thought to myself, if I just  _ keep  _ him…” he stroked him once, then froze his hand in place once more, “ _ there _ …” he stroked once more, ripping a low moan out of John and grinned. He dropped his hand to the base of John’s dick then, moving a little faster than before, nudging John a little bit closer to that edge that he wanted to watch him teeter on. 

“Roger, Roger,  _ Roger, _ ” John chanted. 

“Yes, my darling Deaky?” Roger asked as he ceased in his movements once more. “Is there something you would like to ask me for?”

“ _ Roger! _ ” John huffed.

“Yes, that is my name,” Roger said.

“You bastard,” John groaned.

“John?” Roger said.

“Mm?” John hummed.

“Too much?” Roger asked. 

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “Keep going. I’m — I’m good.”

“Okay,” Roger said. “Then, all you have to do is ask for what you want,” he said, breathing hot against John’s cock, making him squirm, “and I’ll give it.” 

“I’ve  _ been  _ asking, you —” John cut himself off and huffed. 

He placed a kiss to the tip of John’ cock. “What do you want, Deaky?”

John looked down at Roger. “I wanna  _ come _ ,” he said confidently. 

Roger started to move his hand a little faster. “I’ve got you, Deaks,” Roger said and he sucked John back into his mouth, sliding his lips lower and lower until he felt his nose brushing against the curly hairs at the base, then started his ascent back to the tip. He repeated this over and over again, picking up his pace. 

“Roger, Roger,” John said. “I’m — I’m gonna —” he balled his fingers into Roger’s hair and tried to pull him off. “Roge, if you don’t want a mouth full of  _ come  _ than you had better —” 

Roger wrapped his lips tightly around the tip and hummed to tell John that he was just fine where he was, thank you very much, and to go right ahead. 

John wanted to push the matter. He wanted to make sure that he understood what Roger meant, wanted to ask him if he was absolutely sure, but Roger kept humming around him and the vibrations from it shot straight up his spine. He was coming down Roger’s throat and Roger was swallowing around him.

“Jesus Christ _ ,  _ Roge,” John sighed as he was coming down from his orgasm.

“Be right back,” Roger said, hopping up from the bed and heading to the bathroom.

“What was that all about?” John called after him, but the only response he got was Roger wordlessly shrugging his shoulders before disappearing through the doorway. 

Roger returned less than a minute later, wet cloth in hand. He flopped down on the bed, murmuring, “I’m gonna clean you up, Deaks.”

“Clean what up?” John asked, starting to giggle. “You  _ swallowed  _ all of the mess.”

“You complaining?” Roger questioned.

“No, no,” John said, shaking his head. “It was hot. Really hot. I just don’t know where it came from.”

“Regardless,” said Roger, looking up into John’s face, lips curling into a devilish smirk, “I left quite the mess inside of you.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” John laughed. “Carry on, then. Clean up your mess.” 

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” said Roger, and he set to work. 

John would sigh every so often. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to turn me on again,” he said.

“Just being thorough,” Roger chuckled. “You’ll thank me for it later,” he said, and soon after he tossed the cloth across the room into the pile of dirty clothes that was in the corner of his bedroom. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“If that’s okay?” John said. “It’s a bit late.”

“Yeah, ‘course it’s okay,” Roger said. He crawled to the head of the bed and clicked the lamp off before pulling a blanket over himself and John. 

John leaned in close and wrapped his arms around Roger’s middle. “Hey, Roge?”

“Mm, yeah?” Roger said.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” John asked.

“What do you mean?” Roger asked, trying to stifle a yawn. 

“The album’s getting released tomorrow,” John said.

Roger was silent for a few moments before he flipped over so that he was facing John. The moonlight fell in streaks across John’s face and Roger let out a little sigh. “Yeah,” he finally replied. “Are you nervous?” 

John shook his head. “No,” he said. “Are you?”

“No,” Roger said quickly.

“Ah,” John said thoughtfully. “So we’re both liars. Noted.”

“Hey,  _ I’m _ not lying,” Roger said defensively. 

In the dim light that the moon provided, Roger could watched John raise his eyebrows as high as they would go, entirely unconvinced. “Roger, come on,” John said. “I know what you sound like when you’re lying.”

Roger sighed, looked at him for a long while, then sighed again. “Alright, fine, I — I’m a bit nervous,” he admitted. “But it is rather stressful, you know. I mean, it’s an album, yeah. It’s big. But it’s not a guarantee of anything. We could still flop, we could still crash and burn.”

“Well, with that attitude —”

“ _ John. _ ”

“Right, sorry.”

Roger sighed. “I’m just… I want the best for us all. We’ve all worked so hard and I just feel like — well, I know this isn’t exactly true but I feel like if this album doesn’t work out then that’s it for us.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” John sighed.

Roger forced a smile. He rested his head against John’s bare chest. “Sleep,” he said.

John smiled softly. “Sleep,” he agreed.

***

The album release party was in full swing and, although everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives, Roger thought it was kind of a drag. It wasn’t like it was especially thrilling to be out partying on a Friday night. Roger couldn’t remember the last time that he  _ wasn’t  _ at a party on a Friday night. And yeah, okay, this one was meant to be special because it was thrown in celebration of Queen’s first album and all of their wonderful achievements and blah, blah, blah. Roger was excited about the album, he really was, he was just weary of celebrating it so soon when they didn’t even know how well it was going to sell or what the response would be. 

Roger had found himself a spot on the sofa and there he had planted himself. He was watching the party unfold before his eyes. He’d get up every so often and wander to the kitchen (it was a  _ nice  _ kitchen, he couldn’t remember whose kitchen it was), get another drink, then find his way back to the sofa where, sometimes, he would find that somebody had taken his spot. He would just wedge himself in between people on the couch, they would scoff, they would realize that he definitely wasn’t going to move, and they’d storm off in a huff. 

He wanted to have fun, he really did. He just didn’t know how, what with his anxieties about the album weighing down on his mind. The alcohol wasn’t helping. 

Roger really just wanted to go home. 

Eventually he got bored of sitting on the sofa, so he got up, got another drink, started wandering around the house (seriously, who did this house belong to?). He thought he might find Freddie and have a chat with him, but when he stumbled upon his friend it was only to find that he was on the back patio with his tongue in Mary’s mouth. He figured he could go and bother Brian, but Roger found him in the kitchen chatting up some girl and the last time Roger had prevented Brian getting laid without a good reason, Brian had rewarded Roger with the silent treatment for nearly three days. 

And then there was John. Dear, sweet, darling Deaky who Roger was pretty sure he was falling —

Roger shook himself quickly before that thought could go any further. 

He really would like to find John. They hooked up at parties pretty often, but that wasn’t an option at this one. Not when so much of the focus was on the band members of Queen. But little chats with John almost never failed to cheer him up. Plus, he was pretty sure that as anxious as he was feeling, John must have been feeling twice as bad. 

John, however, was nowhere to be found. 

Roger found a spare bedroom upstairs that was empty and there was a loveseat in the corner that he flopped down upon, spilling a little bit of his drink down his front. He shrugged it off, took a sip, and sighed. 

This was bullshit. This was  _ such  _ bullshit.

He was at a party thrown in  _ his band’s  _ honor, but he was all alone, swimming in his worrisome thoughts. He was at a party and he was Roger  _ fucking  _ Taylor. He could be shagging most any pretty girl who caught his attention, but instead he was hiding, curled up in a corner and thinking about Deaky and his face, his fucking face, his pretty fucking —

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Roger hissed. He set his drink down on the floor, then pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes because no way was he going to cry.  _ No way  _ was he going to  _ cry  _ over John Deacon and his stupid face. His stupid,  _ attractive  _ face. “Fuck,” he choked, “fuckfuck _ fuck, _ this is such a mess, this is such a —”

“Roge?”

“Deaky!” Roger shouted, startled, looking up at him where he stood in the doorway. 

“Roge, are you good?” John asked. His tone was one of concern but his face was grinning.

“Yeah, I’m…” Roger nodded quickly, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say. “Yeah, I’m great. Sorry, um, come in.”

John hang onto the door frame like it was a monkey bar and tipped himself backward into the room so that he was looking at Roger upside down, grinning toothily. He bent further and further back until his hair was almost touching the floor. “Roge,” he said before pulling himself upright once more. “Roge, Roge, Roge,” he said, laughing softly. 

“Are you okay, Deaks?” Roger asked, frowning.

“I’m,” John paused, took in a deep breath, and smiled brightly as he exhaled. “I’m  _ wonderful. _ ”

Roger chuckled, trying to distract John from the tears still in his eyes, the tracks they’d left behind on his face. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Rogah,” John said, stepping further into the room, wobbling after losing the support that the doorframe had provided, but only slightly so. “Rogah Taylah!” 

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ wasted,” Roger laughed.

“So’re you,” John slurred, still smiling.

“‘M not that drunk,” Roger said and he shrugged. “ _ You _ are fuckin’ shitfaced.”

“Roge,” John sighed.

“Mhm?” Roger.

“You,” John said firmly, pointing firmly at Roger, “‘re pretty.”

Roger looked up, a little shocked. “Um… thanks?”

“Yeah,” John said, nodding. “ _ Yeah. _ You’re so pretty ‘nd…  _ pretty. _ ”

“Yeah, I…” Roger said. “Um, thanks, John.”

“Nathaniel,” John said, and started shaking his head. “He’s not ‘s pretty ‘s you”

Roger frowned. “Who’s Nathaniel?”

“He’s been flirtin’ with me all night,” John giggled. 

“Oh?” Roger said because he didn’t know how else to respond. He tried to train his face into a neutral expression. “That’s, um… cool.”

John merely shrugged his shoulders, stumbling his way over to the loveseat where Roger was seated.

Roger curled his legs into his chest to open up more space for John. He watched the drunken bassist flop down beside him. “Is it not cool?”

“’s cool, I guess,” John said, shrugging his shoulders for a second time. “I dunno.”

“Okay,” Roger said slowly. “Are you, um, enjoying yourself? Enjoying the party?”

“Mhm,” John said, nodding.

“Oh,” said Roger.

“Aren’t you?”

“Hm?”

“‘s all for us, Roge,” John said, grinning toothily. “‘s  _ our  _ party.”

“I know,” Roger said, nodding.

“We’re the kings of the world, Roge,” John said, throwing his arms wide. “Nay!  _ Queens  _ of the world!”

“Yeah,” Roger said, still nodding.

“Roge,” John said softly.

“Hm?” 

“Why’re you not havin’ fun?” John asked, tilting his head to one side.

Roger sighed. “The album could still flop, it could still… We’re not a success. Not yet, at least, but everyone’s partying like we are.”

“We’re havin’  _ fun _ ,” John said.

Roger only hummed in response.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

John moved toward Roger and placed himself in Roger’s lap, hands on Roger’s shoulders. 

“John,  _ what  _ are you doing?” Roger hissed.

“Cheerin’ you up,” John whispered.

“John, don’t be  _ stupid, _ ” Roger snapped. “The door is open, someone will see!”

“No one’s gonna see, Roge —” 

“The  _ door  _ is  _ open! _ ” Roger said pointedly. “Get off of me.”

John looked at Roger, a little dazed and a little confused, taking a little too long to comprehend what Roger was saying. 

“I said  _ get off  _ —” Roger pushed John off of his lap but John, not exactly in the best control of his body at the moment, went tumbling to the floor.

John landed on his backside, legs sprawled at an awkward angle, holding himself up on his elbows. He’d knocked Roger’s cup over on the way down and the drink was seeping into John’s pants now.

“Deaky —”

John scrambled to his feet, looking like he was going to cry, muttering his apologies as he made a beeline for the door. 

“John —  _ shit  _ — wait!” Roger leaped up and hurried after him, but by the time he was on the hallway he couldn’t tell which way John had gone because he was completely gone from view. Thinking that John might have headed for another bedroom or the bathroom to sit alone and cry, Roger left the room and turned right.

John, however, had turned  _ left. _

Now,  _ Nathaniel _ was a friend of a friend of a friend of John Reid, which was how he had come to find himself at Queen’s album launch party. He wouldn’t exactly call himself a fan of Queen but their music was alright, the booze was free, and the bassist was  _ hot. _ He didn’t think that was going anywhere. John Deacon was getting drunker and drunker, but he still seemed pretty apprehensive to his flirting. Nathaniel was just about to lay off when John Deacon made that decision for him by walking away. 

_ So, yeah, _ he sighed inwardly,  _ I’m not getting any.  _

He was about to go in search of someone else, someone a little less repressed, who might get off with him. But just as he was draining another drink, about to go into the next room and mingle, John Deacon returned to the kitchen. He strode up to Nathaniel and got close to him — surprisingly close to him — close enough to whisper in his ear —

“Oh, hi, John,” said Nathaniel. “I thought you’d gone —”

“Will you take me back to yours?” John asked.

“Excuse me?” Nathaniel said. 

“If you want,” John said. “I’d like to go… to bed… with you.”

Nathaniel grinned. 

***

“Wanna try something,” Nathaniel murmured in John ear, laying him down across his mattress. 

John nodded as Nathaniel crawled up alongside him. Nathaniel swung one leg over John’s body so that he had one leg on the other side of him, knees pressed against his arms, sitting on his chest, effectively pinning him down. 

“You good?” Nathaniel asked, and John quickly nodded. Nathaniel took hold of his cock and guided it into John’s mouth. He thrusted shallowly, waiting to get some sort of reaction out of John. When he didn’t get one, he thrust deep into John’s mouth, causing him to cough and pull back a bit. Nathaniel laughed, “Is it too big for you?”

John looked up at him through thick lashes, unsure of how he was meant to respond. What was he supposed to say to that? How as he supposed to say it with a dick still stuffed in his mouth

Nathaniel went back to shallow thrusts, but they were hard and quick. 

All of a sudden, John was feeling very sober. 

It hit John, all at once, that he didn’t like what was happening very much. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He wasn’t enjoying himself, and he was pretty sure he should be enjoying himself. He always enjoyed himself when he was with —

John started coughing violently and it had nothing to do with the cock still being thrust shallowly over his tongue, but Nathaniel looked down, frowning, and pulled out. 

“Are you good?” he asked, climbing off of John’s chest.

“Um, yeah,” John said. “I mean — I mean, no,” he said, shaking his head. 

“No?” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. 

“No, I’m — I’m not feeling very well at all,” John said, getting up off the bed. “Where’s my shirt? I think I need to go, I —” he zipped up his pants, “Ah, here it is.” He picked his shirt up off the ground and slipped his arms into the sleeves, didn’t bother buttoning it up. “Shoes, shoes…”

“What’s your problem?” Nathaniel asked, not in a nice way but not in a cruel way either.

“Wh… what?” John said, looking up at him. 

“Like, you’re the one who asked for this,” Nathaniel sighed. “I just don’t see what the problem is.”

John’s breath shook. He found his shoes, stepped into them quickly. “I — I just — need to go. I’m sorry, I —” he shook his head, he left the bedroom without another word. He heard Nathaniel shuffling across his bedroom, he could feel Nathaniel’s eyes on the back of his neck. But he didn’t turn around to say goodbye or to apologize again or to say anything at all. He saw himself out of the apartment, hurried down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk where he finally felt like he could breathe again. 

That — whatever had just happened — didn’t feel right. That’s not what sex was supposed to be like, he was pretty sure of that. At least, that’s not what it felt like when he was with Roger. 

He thought that, perhaps, that wasn’t a very good way to judge what sex was supposed to feel like. After all, when he was with Roger…  _ God.  _

He’d been with a couple other people here and there, of course. Roger had been the first, but he and Roger were not exclusive. (This was not because John would not  _ like  _ to be, of course. It all came down to what Roger wanted.)

“ _ Roger, _ ” John said aloud to himself. He’d really fucked up at the party — he groaned. “Fuck.”

***

John strode right up to Roger the next day at rehearsal, trying to keep his anxiety at bay, and he said, “Can we talk?” at the very same time that Roger said, “John, we need to talk.”

They both look surprised at one another, but nodded.

“Yeah,” said Roger.

“Yeah,” John said. 

Roger glanced over at the corner where Brian was tuning his guitar, watching them curiously. “C’mon,” he said to John, heading toward the door and out into the hallway. John followed at his heels.

“Roger, I’m  _ so  _ sorry —” John began as soon as the door was shut.

“Deaky,  _ I’m  _ sorry,” Roger said. “I didn’t mean to shove you —”

“No, Roge, it’s okay —”

“ — and then I came after you but I couldn’t find you and I —”

“You came after me?” John interrupted.

“What?” Roger said. “Yeah, of course I did. Wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt badly.”

“Roger, it wasn’t that far of a fall,” John said.

“I didn’t mean, like, physically,” Roger said.

“Oh,” John said, because he didn’t know how else to answer. “I crossed a line, Roger, and I’m really so sorry —”

“John, don’t worry about —”

“ —  _ so sorry,  _ I was so drunk but that isn’t an —”

“ — it, you’re  _ fine  _ —”

“ — excuse,” John finished.

“John, you’re  _ fine, _ ” Roger said. “Really.”

“But —”

“ _ John. _ ” 

John frowned. “I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Roger said.

“It’s not,” John said.

Roger sighed. “You’re clearly very sorry that it happened.”

“I am,” John said, nodding. “I  _ am. _ ”

“Okay,” Roger said, nodding as well. “We’re good. I’m good. Are you good?”

John nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Roger smiled. “Good.”

“We should get back in there, then,” John said. “Before Brian gets suspicious. Plus, Freddie’ll be here soon.”

“Yeah, go on ahead,” Roger said. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

John nodded again, then and walked away.

Roger leaned against the wall, watching him go. He frowned when John disappeared through the door, back into the room where they practiced near everyday. 

Dear, sweet, darling Deaky who Roger was pretty sure he was falling in love with. 


End file.
